


Clear Skies

by Kayim



Category: Star Wars: X-wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-23
Updated: 2011-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-27 23:01:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/301000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayim/pseuds/Kayim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A routine escort duty provides Wedge with some long-overdue relaxation. In theory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clear Skies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Framlingem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Framlingem/gifts).



> Thank you so much for this prompt! It gave me an excuse to pull out my well-worn X-Wing novels and remember why I fell in love with these pilots the first time around.
> 
> I hope this fic is what you wanted. Yub, Yub, Commander.
> 
> *
> 
> Beta'd as always by Siluria, with additional snark and criticism from my beloved husband <3

Launching his X-Wing from the hanger, Wedge focused on the Orbital Mirror in front of him, the static image compensating for the spinning of the stars as he orientated himself. He loved to fly, more than anything else in the world, but that initial visual distortion always made his stomach lurch. Never for more than a few seconds, but it was enough to remind him that he was no longer on solid ground. For that reason alone, he welcomed the feeling.

"Rogue Two right behind you, Wedge."

Wes's voice was almost as familiar over the distortion of the comm as it was in person. They'd flown together on more occasions than either could count and Wedge knew they'd quickly slip into the perfect symmetry that they were used to.

"Remind me again why we're doing this?" While Wedge readily admitted that he would rather be flying, even on a babysitting run, than finishing up the paperwork that was piling up on his desk, he was still suspicious about being assigned this job. There were dozens of pilots better suited to escort duty. "Who did we annoy this time?"

A soft laugh came over the comm. "No one, believe it or not. I just thought you could do with getting out of there for a while."

Wedge couldn't fault his friend. He'd spent the two weeks since their return to Coruscant doing nothing more writing up reports, reading through personnel files for potential new recruits and signing requisition forms. If he wasn't so determined to form this new commando X-Wing unit, he'd have thrown in the towel days earlier. He wasn't going to give the doubters the chance to gloat though.

"You know me too well," he admitted. "Gate, plot a course that circles the Mirror in a wide enough arc that we won't get too dizzy."

The R5 unit whistled in response even as his affirmative reply appeared on the display in front of Wedge.

"OSETS 1138, this is Rogue One. I'm here with Rogue Two and we'll be keeping you company for the next couple of hours."

"Acknowledged Rogue One. Good to have you around."

Wedge clicked the comm over and settled back into his seat, watching the ever-changing pattern of stars.

The silence was comfortable with no pressure for mindless chit-chat and Wedge felt the stress of the last few days gradually fade away. He should have thought about requesting some flight time himself. Making a mental note to buy Wes a couple of Lomin Ales as a thank you, he closed his eyes.

Suddenly the peace was shattered by a scream from Gate. At the same moment, alerts began flashing on the display. Wedge's eyes flickered across the display, taking in as much information as he could, even as Wes's voice came over the comm.

"Rogue One, we have hostiles incoming. Five fighters, unknown configuration, heading straight for us. They have weapons powered. Please advise."

"Acknowledged, 1138. Sit tight and keep your shields up. We'll handle them."

Wedge switched his comm over to the unit channel in order to keep the conversation between him and Wes. "Two, assuming you heard the call. Split up and protect the Mirror at all costs." Under normal protocol, they would have stuck together, one of them in lead, the other as wingman, but a quick analysis of the situation confirmed Wedge's initial gut instinct that this didn't warrant such formality.

Wedge split his focus between the display in front of him and the flashes of movement he could see through the windows of his cockpit. Two of the incoming snubfighters were heading directly towards him, their wings recognizable as TIE Interceptors, but their bodies resembling Z-95 headhunters. "At least two of them are Z'ceptors," he informed Wes, even as he targeted the first with his lasers. "No visuals on the other three as yet."

Wes was on the other side of the Mirror, but Wedge could still follow his ID on his X-Wing's display. "Looks like I've got a DIE-Wing," he said, referring to the standard Ugly that compromised a TIE ball cockpit and a pair of Y-Wing nacelles. "And some disgusting concoction that looks like a B-Wing welded onto the _Falcon's_ cockpit. Han would hate this thing."

Cobbled together from scrap and salvage, every Ugly was slightly different, although most tended to follow similar patterns. Whatever it was that Wes was facing sounded even more like a useless piece of space junk than the rest.

Turning his attention back to the Z'ceptors in front of him, Wedge read the weapon specs that Gate was scrolling across the X-Wing's display. It looked like both were carrying only underpowered lasers, which were unlikely to do any major damage to the mirror, but if all five of the ships managed to get close enough, there was still the chance of bringing it down. "Do you think they have shields?"

As Wedge's first shot caught the hybrid ship dead center, it exploded, sending debris scattering. "Doesn't look like it," he answered with a smile. "At least that one didn't."

The four remaining ships, seemingly unconcerned by the loss of their companion, continued in their unpredictable flight, laser bursts firing erratically. "These pilots have about as much style and grace as wallowing pigs," Wes commented, his derogatory comment referring to the Y-Wing's that were renowned for being more brawn than beauty. Wedge watched his display as one of them targeted Wes's fighter, firing directly at him and yet missing by kilometers.

"Good job they don't hit as hard." Wedge jerked his fighter around, coming up and under the mirror. It brought him directly into line with the Ugly that Wes had targeted earlier. "I wonder what they actually think they'll accomplish by attacking the mirror?"

Locking his lasers onto the fighter, Wedge cursed as it shuddered to the left, avoiding the attack.

"Did the great Wedge Antilles just miss a shot?" Wes crowed, his X-Wing appearing around the side of the mirror and coming into Wedge's line of sight. "I can't believe it. My faith in the universe may have been irreparably damaged. Wait until I tell… hey!"

The tirade broke off as Wedge targeted his wingman's fighter for a split second. Wedge laughed, even as he broke the lock and spun himself around, linking his lasers and firing again at the Ugly he'd just missed. Even without his target lock, he'd been successful this time, and he flew his X-Wing directly through the remnants of the ship.

Wedge glanced at the display and saw only one remaining fighter. A fairly standard X-TIE, he knew it wouldn't stand up to much of an attack, and flew towards it, confident that Wes would be close on his heels. A quick check of the status of mirror showed that not a single hit from the Uglies had made it past the shields. He shook his head. Only desperation or sheer stupidity could have made such unskilled pilots go up against something as defensible as a mirror, let alone when it was being patrolled by two X-Wings, which could easily out-maneuver and out-shoot them.

"Why don't you let me handle this one," Wes said, pulling a fraction ahead of Wedge. "You need the rest."

"You know I can have you court-martialed," Wedge replied with a smile, transferring a portion of his shields into the engines. That certainly wasn't something he would condone any of his pilots doing, especially not in a situation as uncritical as this, but he'd be damned if he was going to let Wes get the final hit.

He heard Wes's laugh over the comm and realized how long it had been since he'd actually had fun flying. All too often, it had been life-or-death battles, or mundane long-distance hauls. But this, a dogfight with a group of no-talent pirates who deserved nothing better than to be shot from the sky, was worth enjoying.

As the pair of them chased the remaining Ugly across the skies, Wedge mentally ran through the previous few minutes. The erratic flight patterns. The way the fighters had concentrated on them rather than the mirror. The lack of communication. The fact that two of the best pilots the Republic had were offering a protection service on an orbital mirror...

He wondered how many favors Wes had traded off to get this all planned. The Uglies must have been scrounged together from parts left behind on Coruscant. Programming the autopilots wouldn't have been that difficult, although Wes couldn't have done it himself. And convincing the Admiral to allow all this to go ahead? Hell, Wes deserved a medal for the organization itself.

Smiling, he dialed back on the throttle slightly, allowing Wes to pull ahead.

"What's up, Wedge. Can't keep up?"

"The day I can't keep up with you..." He let his words trail off as Wes chuckled. "But go on, take the last one. You need the practice."

"Ooh, that hurts. I'm wounded."

The banter was easy to fall into, reminding Wedge of easier days, when all they had to worry about was staying alive another day. Being a legitimate government was a hell of a lot harder. The last twenty minutes had reminded him why he was still doing this. And that was probably the best gift anyone could have given him.

"Just vape the thing and we can get out of here," he ordered.

"Yes Sir, Commander, Sir. But you'll owe me a drink." Wes tipped his wing slightly, the pilot equivalent of a salute, and sped up towards the ship. He fired his quad-linked lasers directly into the engines, a perfect shot, and the hybrid ship exploded.

Wes circled around the debris until he was facing Wedge's fighter.

"The skies are clear, Wedge."

"That they are, Wes," he replied, turning his snubfighter around to face the planet. "Let's go home."


End file.
